


Shell Cottage Chrysalis

by ErisFMc



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/M, Missing Scene, Romance, Shell Cottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisFMc/pseuds/ErisFMc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shell Cottage after Malfoy Manor in Deathly Hallows. It's been done many times before, and for a reason. JKR simply does not deal with important issues she set up in the scenes at Malfoy Manor. This is my take, which I hope gives a different perspective and adds fresh elements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Refuge

_Shell Cottage, Shell Cottage._ Ron’s entire being was bent to a single purpose, bent to moving the precious life cradled in his arm to Shell Cottage and safety. He allowed no other thought, saw  and heard nothing. He was all will and he willed Hermione to safety and himself with her.

It was only when his knees crunched into sand that he began to breathe again, short shallow breaths. His heart was racing and fear coursed through his body. _She has to be alive, she has to pull through_. But Hermione did not stir in his arms.

He saw the lights of Shell Cottage, very close. Several people were standing just outside the front door, silhouetted by the light within. He staggered to his feet and ran to the entrance carrying Hermione unaware that he was calling out “help.”

“Quick, inside,” said his brother Bill, but Ron was already through the door. He moved swiftly to the couch then, as gently as he could, lowered Hermione onto it. He was shaking as he desperately sought her pulse but when he found it, it was so weak and he could see no rise and fall of her chest. She was deathly pale and her shirt was soaked in blood.

He became aware of Bill and Fleur hovering over him.

“She’s been tortured, Bill, _cruciatus_ , ” he said, looking up to his brother with watery eyes. He knew he was on the verge of tears. “I need to know what to do…I don’t know what to do.”

Fleur waved her wand over Hermione, examining her. “She is going to be alright, Ron,” she said, but Ron could see the doubt and fear in her eyes.

Just then there was a loud pop and Bill rushed back outside. Fleur disappeared into the kitchen but quickly returned with a bottle of Dittany.

“Take ‘ermione upstairs to the guest bedroom. You need to put the Dittany on ‘er wounds. I’ll be up there shortly.” Fleur briefly brushed Ron’s cheek with her hand and then dashed after Bill.

Ron gathered Hermione into his arms, lifting her as gently as he could, and carried her up the narrow staircase, carefully protecting her head from any bumps. He took her into the bedroom that he had used himself that last joyless Christmas and laid her down on one of the two beds.

He kissed her tenderly on the forehead and then he felt his tears begin to flow. “You have to come back to me, Hermione. You have to.”

He examined her head to foot. The wound on her neck, inflicted by the monster’s knife, was still oozing blood and there was a splinter of glass lodged in her cheek that was also bleeding. Ron pulled out the splinter unconcerned that he cut his fingers in the process. He dabbed dittany on the wound and was gratified when it healed almost instantly.

He also dabbed dittany on the neck wound. It hissed and steamed and Hermione flinched which both terrified and heartened Ron. The oozing slowed almost completely, though Ron could still see a bead of blood slowly forming.

From her bloody shirt Ron knew that Hermione had some bad wounds on her upper body. “Forgive me, Hermione,” he said as he began to unbutton her shirt. A small part of his mind was aware that unbuttoning Hermione’s shirt was a cherished fantasy, but this was no fantasy come to life, it was an utter nightmare. As carefully as he could, he removed Hermione’s shirt.

He let out a pained cry and began clenching and unclenching his fists when he saw the many black and blue spots on her blood smeared skin, each one marking where a cruciatus curse had torn through her body.

A deep gash just under her left breast, made by a shard of broken glass, bled profusely. The shard must have shifted when he removed the shirt and the blood was now pumping faster and faster. He had to act quickly but he wasn’t sure what to do. He knew that dittany was useless for such a deep cut and would only make it worse. Removing the shard would accelerate the loss of blood but if instead he pressed on the wound to staunch the bleeding, it would just drive the shard deeper, damaging her more and causing internal bleeding. His breathing became rapid and shallow and he felt cold. He heard himself cry out “help, Fleur, Bill, I need help.” But he was alone, it was up to him.

Terrified, he held the tip of his wand close to the wound. With his left hand he pulled out the shard. Blood began to pump freely.

“ _Vulnera-Sanentur, Vulnera-Sanentur, Vulnera-Sanentur_ ,” he said three times concentrating on the complex hand movements, giving one last counter clockwise turn praying that he had the direction right.

Slowly, the blood flow halted and then the wound sealed over leaving an angry red scab. .

“You ‘ave to put Dittany on it now, else it will scar.”

Ron had not heard Fleur enter the room. He looked up at her now, relieved and then did as she bade.

Fleur knelt down beside Ron. She felt for Hermione’s pulse then lay her hand on her forehead. Ron could see the pain and sadness in Fleur’s eyes as she gently touched several of the cruciatus marks on Hermione’s body. She then cast a spell, moving her wand rhythmically over Hermione, chanting to a slow soothing beat.

‘That will ‘elp ‘er to rest and to heal. You need to leave for a while, Ron. I must check the rest of her body for any other injuries.”

“I’m not leaving her. I have to be here when she wakes up.”

“Ron, I ‘ave to clean her and change her into fresh clothes. And you must clean up and change too. If ‘ermione wakes and see you like that she will die of fright.”

It was only then that Ron realised how much blood had soaked into his own clothes and how shocking he must look.

“Go, you can borrow some of Bill’s clothes.” said Fleur. “If she awakes while you are away, I will tell her you are just outside.”

Ron stood. “Is she going to be OK, Fleur?” his eyes bore into Fleur, pleading.

She turned away from his gaze. “I am not a Healer, Ron,” she said, almost inaudibly.

Ron left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and thought it must be Harry coming up to check on Hermione, but it was Bill.

“How’s Harry?” he asked feeling slightly guilty that he hadn’t thought of Harry at all or checked if he had even arrived safely.

Bill hesitated. “He’s OK. He is digging a grave for the elf.”

Ron felt a chill in the pit in his stomach. “Dobby? Dobby is dead?”

Bill just nodded.

“I should go help Harry,” said Ron.

“Harry wants to be alone at the moment.”

Ron was relieved. It was just not right that Dobby should have died and he knew that Harry would be both furious and wracked with guilt but Ron did not want to leave Hermione. She was his first, second and third priority. He was a little angry at Harry that Hermione wasn’t also his first concern.

Bill was talking again. “How is Hermione?”

Ron could feel his composure cracking once again. “I don’t know. She seems OK for the moment but she is still unconscious. Hell, Bill, She’s been so badly hurt.” Ron seized Bill by the shoulders.  “She has to get better, she just has to.”

“Can you tell me what happened, Ron?”

“We were captured, taken to Malfoy Manor. Oh Merlin, they now know I’ve been travelling with Harry. You have to let the rest of the family know. They have to get to safety.”

“I’m heading to the Burrow right now.”

“Ginny? Can she get away from Hogwarts?”

“She’s home on holidays, thank Merlin. It’s Easter holidays, Ron.  

Ron breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ron, what is going on. Why did they torture Hermione, what did they want to know, what is it you are doing.? We need to know.”

Ron looked into his brother’s eyes with sadness. “We’ve been through this before, Bill, at Christmas. I can’t tell you.”

“Don’t you know how much danger you have put us all in, how much danger you have put my wife in, the rest of our family. We would never turn you away, but we deserve to know.”

“Deserve? What’s deserving got to do with it. Do you think Hermione deserved to be tortured? Do you think Dobby deserved to die? Knowing would just put all of you in greater danger than you are already in and it would put us in greater danger too.”

“Do you not see the dreadful state you three are in. You need help. You are out of your depth.”

Ron looked at his brother, his eyes full of anguish. “Don’t you think we know that?” He turned and headed into the bathroom.

After he had cleaned up and changed he knocked gently on Hermione’s door.

“Entrez,” came the soft reply.

Hermione was still unconscious, but there was more colour to her cheeks and the steady rise and fall of her chest was now discernible. Fleur had changed the bedding as well as Hermione’s clothes and she was now wearing one of Fleur’s nighties and tucked snugly in the bed.

“How is she?” asked Ron.

“Better, I think.”

“Thank you, Fleur, for looking after her.”

“Is nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. We have put you in great danger.”

“We are family Ron, we are all in this together.”

Ron just nodded. He pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down facing Hermione, taking her hand in his.

Fleur put a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “I have to go and check on our other guests. When Hermione awakes, get her to drink all that.” She indicated a jug of purple liquid. “It will rebuild her fluid levels and ease any pain.”

She left, closing the door behind her.

Ron closely examined Hermione’s face. She looked so peaceful now, so beautiful. He hadn’t seen her look this peaceful for a very long time. Even when asleep in the tent, there was a tenseness in in her expression, a shadow of the fearful alertness that never left them. He would have been pleased if he was not so afraid. The phrase _the peace of death_ kept rebounding in his skull.

His mind dragged him back to the dungeon at Malfoy Manor and the horror of Hermione’s ordeal, his utter impotence to stop it. “I’m so sorry, Hermione. I’m so sorry.” He was squeezing Hermione’s hand with both hand’s now and he felt tears rise once more. He let them flow.

He bowed his head, as if to hide his shame. “You have to come back to me, Hermione. You just have to.”

“OK” he heard a croaky voice.

He jerked up and found himself looking into Hermione’s open eyes. She was smiling weakly.

They gazed at each other for some time, communicating at a level beyond words, taking from each other what they most needed, giving it in return.

“Where are we?” Hermione asked at last.     

“Safe. We’re at Shell Cottage, Bill and Fleur’s place.”

“Where you spent last Christmas,” said Hermione, regretting it immediately.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Pretty sore. I am very thirsty.”

“Here, let me help you sit up. Fleur says you have to drink all this.”

He helped her sit up and blanched when she winced in pain. He fluffed up every pillow he could find and propped them up behind her. He then poured a glass of the purple fluid and handed it to her, watching carefully to make sure she could hold it steadily.

“Yuk, it tastes like rancid butter.”

“Well you have to drink it anyway. You lost a lot of blood, and it will help with the pain too.”

“Ron, how did I get here. Last I remember she was…she was…and then I have a vague recollection of someone holding a knife to my throat.” She put her hand to her throat as she spoke and was surprised when she encountered a dab of wetness. She pulled it away and saw the blood on her fingertips. Her eyes went wide.

Ron gave her a quick rundown of what had happened and how they had escaped. He hesitated before adding: The thing is, Dobby got killed. I don’t know how. Harry is down there now, digging the grave.”

Hermione’s hands flew to her mouth. “Not Dobby! That’s so unfair. You should go and help Harry, he will be in a lot of pain.”

“You’re in a lot of pain, Hermione.” Ron had taken hold of Hermione’s hand once more. “I’m not leaving you again…ever.”

“I’m Ok for now Ron, and you won’t be abandoning me. I’ll still be here. And I think I need to rest a little more.”

“Alright,” said Ron reluctantly. He let go of her hand and then refilled her glass. “But, you have to promise me you will finish all this.

“Yes, Mum.”

He got up to leave and then, when he reached the doorway, he turned around. “We need to have a talk when you are feeling better.” He left quickly before Hermione had a chance to reply.

As he skipped down the stairs, his heart was pounding. Where did that come from? But he knew the answer to that. Everything had changed now and he had to find the courage to say and do the things necessary.


	2. Worthless

‘The unbeatable wand, Harry!’ moaned Ron.

‘I’m not supposed to … I’m supposed to get the Horcruxes …’

Ron could not believe that Harry had let such a powerful tool escape their grasp and worse, had allowed it to fall into the hands of the enemy. It didn’t help that Hermione supported Harry.

Ron turned toward her now and all thought of wands and horcruxes fled his mind.

Hermione was even paler than she had been earlier and was now trembling. He caught her just in time to prevent her collapsing.

“I’m going to get her back into bed. She shouldn’t even be up after what’s she’s been through.”

“I’ll help,” said Harry.

“You can hardly stand yourself mate. You need to get some sleep. You have been up for well over 24 hours.”

“So have you,” replied Harry.

“I’ll get some sleep as soon as I take care of Hermione.”

“I’m OK…” mumbled Hermione, barely able to stand.

“Stubborn witch,” said Ron. Harry smiled.

“Come on Hermione, I’m taking you to bed.” Hermione let Ron half carry, half walk her back inside Shell Cottage, up the stairs and into her bedroom. He tucked her into bed and then kissed her on the forehead. “Sleep.”

He sat down on the chair beside the bed and, once more, took her hand in his.

Hermione looked up into Ron’s eyes and smiled.

“You need to sleep yourself, Ron. You look exhausted.”

“I will, as soon as I know you are properly asleep.”

“OK…Don’t go too far, though.” Hermione closed her eyes and was soon in a deep sleep.

“I won’t,” said Ron to himself.

He had been both concerned and astonished that Hermione had got up for Dobby’s burial, though she had been very shaky. He had demanded that she return to bed straight after, but she had refused. She insisted on taking part in the discussions with Griphook and Ollivander and even tried to hide from Harry how weak she was, how much she was hurting.

On this occasion she, might have succeeded in fooling Harry. Harry was also driving himself beyond endurance, emotionally drained from the events at Malfoy Manor and Dobby’s death, physically exhausted, his scar clearly giving him a great deal of pain, he had nevertheless had a moment of mental clarity and then had not baulked at the difficult decision confronting him. Nor did he stop to rest but had gone immediately into action, setting in train the next phase of their mission.

The ball was in Griphook’s court at the moment and Ron did not think the goblin would reach a quick decision. That suited Ron. They needed time to recover.

Ron was full of admiration for the courage, resourcefulness and strength of will displayed by his two best friends and could not help but compare it to how useless he had been in the crisis. When Hermione had needed him the most all he could do was cry out like an impotent oaf while Harry kept his cool, got their hands free and then took the long shot that brought Dobby to their aid. Later, he had almost got them all killed because he couldn’t bring himself to use a more dangerous spell than _Expelliarmus_ against Bellatrix allowing her to get back into the fight. All I’m good for is cheering people up after Harry or Hermione have saved the day.

_Useless_ , he said to himself, _effing useless_.

“Worthless…” mumbled Hermione in seeming agreement, jolting Ron from his self-denunciation. Hermione’s face was screwed up and her head tossed from side to side as she continued to talk in her sleep. “…we can dispose of the Mudblood… take her if you want her, Greyback …of no consequence…worthless.” Each word shocked Ron. You can’t be thinking that Hermione, you can’t be taking that mad woman’s word to heart.

He was relieved when she stopped talking and her face looked peaceful again. But almost immediately her body spasmed forming a rigid arch and then she went into convulsions. 

Ron’s breathing became rapid and ragged and his mouth fell wide open. Every jerk of Hermione’s body frightened him but he had no idea what to do. He put out his hands in a vain attempt to stop her movement. From somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered something about keeping airways clear. He rolled Hermione onto her side, being careful to keep her arms free and then propped pillows behind her back to make sure she didn’t roll backwards again. All the time he was shouting out for Fleur, Bill and Harry.

Fleur was the first to arrive.

“Do something, Fleur,” said Ron in desperation.

Fleur quickly looked over the scene. “There’s nothing to do, Ron. You ‘ave already put ‘er in the right position. Now we just have to wait for the convulsions to cease. Then I can give ‘er a relaxant and a sleeping potion.”  

“Did you know this was going to happen, is it going to happen again,” Ron demanded, but Fleur had no answer.

 “An Ashwagandha and Gurdyroots root infusion makes an excellent relaxant,” said Luna who had arrived next.

“What’s going on?” asked Harry who was hot on Luna’s heels. No one answered. There was no need.

Hermione’s convulsions began to diminish, then ceased abruptly. Ron immediately knelt beside her and rocked her gently by the shoulder. “Please wake up Hermione, you need to wake up.”

For a long while she did not respond, then her eyes slowly opened, at first unfocused, finally settling on Ron and she smiled. When she took in all the people in the room Her eyes went wide.

“You had a fit,” said Ron gently, “how do you feel?”

She moved just a little then grimaced in pain. “Like I was hit by a bludger and then fell 30 feet to the ground.”

“I will fetch some medication for you,” said Fleur, leaving the room.

Ron stood and turned to Harry. “we have to get her a proper Healer.”

“We can’t, Ron, it’s too dangerous.”

“What do you mean _we can’t_. This is Hermione we are talking about. We have to.”

“Harry’s right, Ron,” said Bill. “It’s just too risky.”

“It’s too risky if we don’t.”

“They’re watching all the Healers, Ron,” said Bill.

“If it was Fleur you wouldn’t think it was too risky, you’d be out that door in a flash and you would drag the best Healer you could find back here by the collar if you had to.” Ron had raised his voice and there was a definite snarl to it.

“No one’s hunting Fleur,” replied Bill curtly, “Her wanted poster isn’t plastered all over Diagon Alley.”

“Oh so ---,”

“C'est des conneries!” said Fleur, storming back into the room. “Out, take it down stairs.” She pushed the men out of the room and closed the door.

Ron clumped down the stairs and threw himself onto the sofa, ready to do battle.

“We don’t know what other damage Hermione has sustained internally,” he started up, trying to sound reasonable. “This is _Cruciatus_ we are dealing with. Neville’s parents are dribbling vegetables because of it. People die. We have to get professional help before it’s too late.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?” replied Bill. “Every Healer now has a trace on them. There are Death Eaters stationed at St Mungo’s. Two Healers are in Azkaban for daring to treat people ‘punished’ by the new regime, two more are missing. Everyone is afraid.”

“We have to try,” said Ron.

“Even if we could convince someone to come, how would it help Hermione if we were raided by Death Eaters,” retorted Bill.

“Ron, you know what Hermione would say,” said Harry. “She would veto anything that put other people in danger.”

“Well she’s not here, is she? She’s upstairs having convulsions, and all because you couldn’t keep your trap shut. You just had to say his name, didn’t you?”

Harry went white. “Ron, I…I’m sorry…I…”

“Ron,” said Bill, trying to calm Ron, “I understand how you feel, but---”

“No, Bill you don’t know how I feel. You haven’t had to stand by helpless as the girl you love screams in agony over and over and over. You haven’t had to stand by as people casually discuss disposing of her like so much unimportant garbage, tossing her to a degenerate werewolf to rape and then kill. You haven’t had to sit by her bed and watch her go into convulsions not knowing what is going to happen next or what else might be wrong.”

“OK, you right, I can’t really know how your feeling,” replied Bill, “but, can’t you see, I don’t want ever to be in a position to know. I will not allow anything that brings that horror here. I will not put Fleur in that kind of danger.”

“All right then, we’ll leave. I’ll find a Healer for Hermione myself.”

“Ron, we can’t leave,” said Harry. “What we need is here, for our next step. You know this.”

“Sod the mission. Anyway, how far do you think we will get if Hermione isn’t well?”

“Fleur is very skilled in the arts of healing, and I would think you’d be a damn sight more appreciative of what she has already done for Hermione,” said Bill. “They learn a lot more about healing at Beauxbatons than we do at Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, Yeah, I’m sure they teach the kiddies all about dealing with forbidden curses. Fleur maybe great with cuts and bruises and she sure is easy on the eye but she is out of her depth here. She is not a trained Healer. She’s a 20 year old bank clerk, for Merlins sake.”

“How dare you!” Bill was on his feet, glaring at his brother.

“Ron is right, I am out of my depth,” said Fleur. Ron had not seen her come in and his ears were burning as he thought of the derogatory things he was saying.

Fleur continued, “I did not know that ‘ermione would have a fit, I do not know what else might be wrong or what to do about it.”

“I saw people die who were tortured far less than Hermione,” said Luna who had come in with Fleur. “Sometimes they just dropped dead, days after the event.”

Ron was horrified at Luna’s bald flat assertion. The same horror was visible on Harry and Bill’s faces.

“We have to get her a Healer,” pleaded Ron.

Bill collapsed back into his chair, “I still don’t see how we can do it without bringing the Death Eaters down on us. They really are watching all the Healers.”

“Not in France, they’re not,” said Fleur.

All eyes turned to Fleur.

“You do realise that Shell Cottage is closer to France than to London and St Mungo’s. I ‘ave a cousin who lives at Morlaix, just across the Channel. There is a large magical community in the area. I will go and bring back a Healer.”

“It is still risky,” said Bill, “There are reports of Death Eaters operating in northern France. How do we know this cousin or the Healer won’t betray us?”

“There are crazy risks and there are risks one must take. ‘ow could I not do this after what Ron, ‘arry and ‘ermione ‘ave been doing, after what Luna has been through. We are all in this fight together.”

Bill took more convincing and sensible precautions were agreed, but eventually he conceded. 

Fleur had the last word. She turned to Ron.

“There are two things you must agree before I go.”

“What’s that, Fleur?”

“First you must go to bed, you’ve been up for over 36 hours and you won’t be of any use to anyone if you don’t get some sleep.”

“OK, and?”

“Well, I don’t mind if you say I’m easy on the eye. It is only the truth, no?, but don’t you ever dare refer to me as a ‘bank clerk’ again.”  

She turned on the spot leaving Ron flushing and Harry and Bill grinning.


	3. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Healer makes a house call.

**Chapter 3: Healing**

“Hermione, are you awake?”

The sweet lilting voice reached through Hermione’s semi wakefulness and she smiled faintly before slowly opening her eyes.

“Hi Luna.”

“I’ve brought you some supper.”

Hermione realised she was famished. She sat up gingerly, occasionally grimacing, still feeling stiff and sore.

Luna placed the tray on the other bed, placed a pillow across Hermione’s lap and then settled the tray on top of the pillow. With a swish of her wand she opened the curtains. The sun had just set and the light was fading.

“It’s not much, but by the look of you, Harry and Ron, you have not been eating any better than I have. You shouldn’t overdo it.”

Luna removed the cover to reveal a large bowl of soup and some bread and butter.

“I hope you like mushroom soup.”

Hermione tried to supress a groan.

“I put a little chicken in it to help build up your vital essences. We all especially need that at the moment, I think.”

“You prepared this, Luna? Where’s Fleur?”

“She popped over to France to find you a Healer. It’s quite close to here apparently.”

Memories came back to Hermione of the brief, angry exchange between Ron and his brother before an equally angry Fleur pushed them out of the room and then gave her a sleeping draught.

“Fleur should not have taken such a risk. It puts you all in danger.”

“Ron insisted. He was quite ferocious, really. A little bit rude too, I suppose.”

“Where is Ron?” She had half expected Ron to be there when she awoke and was a little disappointed that he wasn’t.

“He and Harry are downstairs sleeping. Fleur made it a condition of her going.”

Luna threw herself on the other bed and began bouncing up and down. “The boys are going to be sleeping downstairs in sleeping bags while we are here. We lucky girls get to share this room. I’m so looking forward to sleeping in a bed again. Hospitality at the Malfoy’s leaves much to be desired.”

Luna stopped bouncing and sat up on the bed. “Of course if you want to be alone with Ron at any time, just tell me.” Hermione turned red.

“I am not really attracted to Harry or Dean and, as for Bill, I do not think I can compete with Fleur and it would be wrong anyway, so I won’t be needing the room myself.”

“You are attracted to Bill?” asked a flustered Hermione.

“Oh yes, that scar is very sexy, don’t you think Hermione?”

“Scars aren’t really my thing, Luna.” Her hand went to her throat and Hermione was surprised to feel a bandage there.

“I think you will always have a small scar there, Hermione. The blade that cut you was cursed. It will stop leaking blood in time, but it will never fully heal.”

Hermione felt a tear come to her eye. She was marked for life by that hateful woman. Her shame would be there for all to see. Not worthy of life, mudblood trash.

oOo

Ron tried to stretch out his arms and was surprised when he met resistance. Then he remembered he was in a sleeping bag. He opened his eyes and looked around the room. Harry was still sleeping and Dean was reading. By the light, it was just after sunset so he must have slept for close to eight hours.

He sat up and now could see Bill, standing in the doorway, looking outward. Even from behind, Ron could sense the tenseness in Bill’s body. Memories of their argument and his harsh words flooded back and he felt momentarily embarrassed. It occurred to him that if Bill was so worried then Fleur must not yet have returned. And no healer had yet come.

He climbed out of the sleeping bag and walked over to Bill, who turned to him.

“She’ll be back soon,” Ron heard himself say. It sounded weak even to him.

“You can’t know that,” snarled Bill.

“No, you are right, sorry…sorry too for some of the things I said this morning…I was way out of line.”

Bill’s expression softened. He rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done if the situation was reversed.” He turned once more to watch outside.

“And now you are worried about Fleur. Well I’ll wait and worry with you. Two people worrying has to be better than one.” Bill cracked a smile.

As they waited, Ron’s emotions were churning. He needed to settle them down and to work out what he needed to do next. “I’m going for a walk,” he said.

“I’ll come with you,” said Harry who had just joined them.

Ron was annoyed but he couldn’t really say no. He shrugged and headed to the beach.

“She’s going to be fine,” said Harry when he caught up.

Ron didn’t respond

“Look…ah…I want to apologise for saying that word…I---”

“Don’t, Harry, it doesn’t change a thing. It was an accident anyway.”

They walked in silence for a while.

“Still---”

“Don’t Harry. It’s not why I am angry at you anyway.” Until he had said it, Ron hadn’t realised he was angry at Harry.

“Why then?”

Ron wheeled to confront his best friend. “Damn it, Harry,  Hermione had been tortured, they were going to toss her to Greyback and when we got here all you could care about was that bleeding elf.”

“Dobby was DEAD!” shouted Harry.

“Yeah, and for all you knew, so was Hermione.”

“I asked Bill, as soon as I could. He said she was alright.”

“As if Bill knew anything.”

Harry sat down on the sand facing out to the ocean. Eventually Ron joined him.

“I just couldn’t face it, Ron, I just couldn’t. Especially after Dobby. The idea that Hermione could…and it be my fault It was just too much.”    

“It’s not your fault, any of us could have said that word.”

“It’s not just that. You two have been in constant danger for nearly a year, all because of me. And now we’ve brought that here and to the rest of your family.”

“We are not in danger because of you, Harry. We are in danger because of _He Who Must Not be Named_ and because we chose to fight him. I chose to fight, Hermione chose, all my family did.”

“I guess.”

“I know what you mean about it being too much though. I just couldn’t take it if Hermione...”

“Nope, me neither. Or if you … or Ginny…”

“Ginny?”

“I was talking to Luna for bit this morning,” said Harry. “She, Neville and Ginny reformed the DA as a resistance group. They’ve done some dangerous stuff.”

Ron breathed in sharply. “Well she’s safe now, thank Merlin. I’m not so sure about Aunt Muriel though.”

They sat in silence for a while before Ron spoke again.

“I’m not really angry at you, Harry. If anything I’m angry with myself.”

“What on Earth for?”

“I was pretty useless when it counted. When that animal was…was hurting Hermione all I could do was yell out and get in the way. You kept your cool and got us out of there.”

“You are joking, aren’t you? You disarmed Bellatrix, one of the most powerful witches alive, you got Hermione safely here and you’ve been making sure she is OK ever since. You saved her life.”

“It doesn’t seem that way to me. It seems I almost got her killed. I should have finished Bellatrix off when I had the chance, but all I hit her with was _Expelliarmus_.”

“You know what Hermione would say to that, don’t you. You don’t have to apologise for not being a cold blooded killer.”

Just then Ron heard a faint pop from the direction of the cottage. He could make out two figures, one with long blond hair and another, very tall and thin. “That will be Fleur and the Healer. We should go back. I’m starved. I hope someone thought to cook some dinner.”

“Luna was talking of making some mushroom soup,” said Harry.

Ron groaned.

oOo

The bedroom door abruptly opened revealing a gaunt figure that struck Hermione and Luna silent.

The woman was old, how old it was impossible to tell, tall and very thin, with an elongated oval face and small narrow nose. Her ears had a suggestion of pointiness which, combining with her overall features, gave her the look of an ancient and stretched out tree sprite. Her white hair fell to her tiny waist. She wore a long deep green woollen skirt that fell from her hips to her ankles and a light green top wrap that exposed the leathery skin of her midriff. A long scarlet cloak hung from her shoulders. Her skirt was split down one side putting on display a weather-beaten leg, wrapped from ankle to the knee in leather straps, also scarlet, matching her cape.

A gold bracelet and a beaten bronze armband with an oak leaf motif adorned her left arm. She did not carry a wand but rather hefted a gnarled and knotted tree root about four feet in length. The most bizarre feature was a conical hat made of woven oak saplings still bearing fresh, young leaves. A small green bird, a wood warbler, buzzed around inside the hat, occasionally poking out its head.

Hermione watched wide-eyed as this ‘healer’, for such she feared she must be, stooped to enter the room without disturbing her strange headdress or its occupant. The ancient woman did a circle of the room, ignoring the Hermione and Luna, sniffing loudly and chanting in a strange guttural language. Abruptly she halted in front of Hermione and shook the tree root. Smoke puffed from the twisted end smelling of thyme and burning leaves.

“I am Cliodhna, shamaness of the Baiocasses, and you, I sense, are the damaged one I have come to heal”

“Yes, I’m the one in bed,” replied Hermione.

Cliodhna ignored Hermione’s response and turned to Luna who was smiling rapturously. Again she shook her root. This time the smoke was reminiscent of rosemary and rotting vegetation.

“And you, fey one, are a true child of nature, attune to the old magic and the hidden ones.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

The shamaness turned back to Hermione.

“What is your name, child”

“Hermione.”

“But that is not your true name.”

“Off course it is. I may been hit with a curse, but I haven’t forgotten my name”

“Hermione is simply the name given to you by your parents, Greek I think and you are not Greek. We must discover your true name, your unique magical name before we can begin to heal you.” 

Cliodhna knelt on the floor, leaning on her long tree root, resting her head on it. She began to chant in the same guttural language she had used earlier and then, taking a pinch of grey powder from her pouch tossed it over Hermione. The powder hung like a mist over Hermione and then disappeared in a flash of bright blue.

“You are Sorcha-Aedammair. The name has many meanings but the simplest translation from the old tongue is _sharp fire_.”

“Oh, Hermione,” said Luna clapping her hands together, “that truly is you, _sharp fire_ , Sorcha-Aedammair.”

“I think I prefer my real name,” huffed Hermione, speaking in French hoping Cliodhna would the better get the message.

“I do not use that language if I can avoid it,” replied Cliodhna frostily. “It is the language of the conquerors.”

“The French invaded your country?” asked Hermione, now baffled.

“Not the French, the Romans. They came, they slaughtered our menfolk, sold my sisters and our children into bitter slavery, hunted us magical folk. We, the Baiocasses of northern Gaul, were almost destroyed, only a few of us survived.”

“That was over 2000 years ago,” said an incredulous Hermione.

“And yet to me it was like yesterday, the memory is still fresh in my mind.”

“You cannot remember something from 2000 years ago. You are not that old!”

“All the Baiocasses who have ever lived, live in me and I in them.” Her eyes were closed and she had a distant look on her face.

Hermione snorted.

Cliodhna ignored Hermione’s derisive scepticism.

“Now, child, you must now lie flat on your back, with the tips of your fingers placed on your forehead.”

Reluctantly, Hermione did as she was told. This was such a waste of time. Fleur would have to be better than this old quack. She felt sick when she thought of the risks they had taken to get this old woman here. But she would go through the motions.

The quack once more held the gnarled root over Hermione, moving it from head to toe, making little circles, chanting and poking Hermione all over with her free hand.

For the first time there was a crack in Cliodhna’s demeanour, an air of genuine sadness.

“How many times were you defiled with the _cruciatus_ , dear child,” she asked softly.

“I wasn't counting, fifteen maybe, it seemed like a hundred.”

“Twenty three,” said Luna.

“You were there?” asked Cliodhna.

Luna nodded.

“The witch who did this to you was very powerful and full of hate, that is clear from the trace magic still in your body. You are lucky, you should be far more damaged than you are. You were protected.”

“Protected?” asked Hermione.

“Old magic, very old. Someone was connected to you during your ordeal, draining away some of your hurt, taking it upon themselves, giving you hope and the strength to endure. Perhaps it was you, Luna. You wouldn’t have been necessarily aware you were doing it. Such magic operates at a very deep level, below consciousness. You would certainly have felt the hurt, though.”

“No, it wasn’t me.” said Luna.

“Ah, then, perhaps it was the young wizard who insisted a Healer come to see you, Sorcha-Aedammair. If so, he has saved your life twice.”

Both young women stared at Cliodhna, eyes wide.

“Luna, could you leave us for now. I need to talk to Sorcha-Aedammair in private.” Luna nodded and left the room.

Cliodhna took of her woodland hat and brushed the twigs from her hair. “That’s better.”

Hermione said nothing.

“Your mind is fine, which is a miracle in itself, but not so your brain. You have two cerebral aneurysms which could burst at any time with fatal results. I am going to mend those right now if I have your permission”

The thought of Cliodhna, shamaness of the Baiocasses, mucking around in her brain terrified Hermione but Cliodhna’s latest choice of words and the abrupt change in her manner had also surprised and confused her.

“Who are you? What are you? How do I know you have any idea what you are doing. You have just used a muggle medical term. Do you even know what it means and do you really know how to treat such a condition. I’m sorry, but you don’t seem very professional. You come across as some deluded storybook ancient Druid.”

Cliodhna smiled. “I will explain shortly, Hermione, but I would rather first remove these time bombs in your head. Let it suffice at the moment that I have graduated in Muggle medicine from the Sorbonne and in magical healing from Institute Le Febure … And now I have shocked you, I see. Can I proceed.”

Hermione was too stunned to do anything else but nod.

Cliodhna drew a more conventional wand from her pouch. “I use this for precision work.” Using her left hand, she gripped Hermione’s head with surprising strength. Hermione could not see what Cliodhna was doing, but she felt the tip of the wand touch her scalp several times, suffusing it with warmth.

“There, you are safe now.”

“You frightened me.”

“You needed to be frightened. You are not out of the woods yet either. Your body has been grossly assaulted and it will be at least a few weeks before you can fully exert yourself safely. You may have a few more fits too, though I will give you something that will make that less likely and certainly reduce the intensity of the convulsions.”

“Who are you?”

“I was born to muggle parents in Mézières in 1911. When the Germans invaded in 1914 we had to flee, we lost everything. In the chaos, the wizarding world forgot the existence of a little witch called Corrine Blanchard; I received no invitation to Beauxbatons or any other magical school. I grew up having no idea what I was. I just knew that I was different and could do things others couldn’t. I think you can understand what that was like. I learnt to hide what I could do. As a teenager I entertained fantasies that I must be a reincarnation of some ancient magical priestess, a woman out of time. I tried not to take it too seriously.

“I was a very bright child and I got a scholarship to study medicine in Paris, not a common thing for a woman from rural France in those days. I was in my last year of medicine when I slipped up and was observed doing magic. Instead of denouncing me as a freak which is what I always feared, the man did something far more astonishing. He announced he was a wizard and did magic of his own. Well you can guess the rest.”

“As someone who had studied both magical and Muggle healing, I wanted to combine the best of both, but the Healing establishment has nothing but contempt for Muggle medicine and wouldn’t hear of it. After the confusion of the second world war, I adopted this mad priestess persona. It enabled me to practice medicine the way I wanted to.”  

Hermione was enthralled and she quizzed the old woman for some time before she finally demurred, saying she had to return to France.

She left Hermione with one last thought.

“Hermione, I said earlier that your mind is unscathed, but I didn’t mean psychologically. People who are tortured as you were can sometimes begin to believe that they deserved it, begin to take on some of the viewpoint of their tormentor. You must guard against that.”

Cliodhna put on her hat once more and saying, “I will be back to check on you in a week,” turned on the spot and disappeared.


	4. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione have a talk.

**_Chapter 4: Confessions_ **

“Do not treat me like an idiot, Bill. She ‘as an excellent reputation,” said Fleur, her eyes cold, hard.

Ignoring the danger signs, Bill pressed on. “Reputation for what, sideshow fortune telling? How could you risk our lives to bring that..that old impostor here.”

Fleur was on her feet. “How dare you Bill. You think I am a child, easily fooled? I went to much pain to find the best ‘ealer for ‘ermione and convince ‘er to come ‘ere.”

Harry could understand Bill’s attitude. He had had exactly the same reaction when he first saw the Healer that Fleur had brought from France. The horrified look on Ron’s face had told him everything he needed to know about Ron’s reaction.

All the same, Harry felt embarrassed to be observing this marital spat and a little guilty that he was indirectly responsible for it. Ron was fuming, Harry could tell, but, wisely, doing his best to bite his tongue.

The argument had started as soon as Fleur had returned downstairs after showing Cliodhna to Hermione’s room. Bill’s earlier anxiety about Fleur’s prolonged absence had turned into anger.

“What in Merlin’s name was that?” he had demanded.

Harry didn’t have the courage to enter the argument. It was Dean who finally plunged in.

“Do Healers in France normally dress like that, Fleur?” he asked.

“Non,” she admitted, “Cliodhna is a little unusual in this way. Most French Healers dress très correctement -very formally.”

Bill nodded smugly.

“But,” continued Fleur, “It tells you how exceptional she must be if she can get away with such flamboyance.”

“Flamboyance,” snorted Ron, his one contribution to the conversation. Fleur glared at him.

It didn’t help when, just moments later, Luna arrived downstairs and started gushing about Cliodhna.

“She’s amazing. Did you know that she is the reincarnation of an ancient Gallic priestess? And she really understands Sorcha-Aedammair.”

“Who or what is Sorcha-Aedammair?” asked Ron.

“Sorcha-Aedammair is Hermione’s true name. Cliodhna discovered it.”

Ron groaned. “I think I better go and check on her.”

“Oh no, you can’t, Ron. Cliodhna needs to be alone with Hermione. She sent me out of the room so she could talk about the fatal condition Hermione has.”

Ron was up like a shot, headed towards the stairs but Luna put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

"No, Ron, you must let Cliodhna do her work. She can cure Hermione. You have already saved Hermione’s life, now it is the Healer’s turn.”

“Luna is right, Ron,” said Harry. “Hermione won’t go along with anything that isn’t sensible.”

“What actually happened up there, Luna?” demanded Ron.

As Luna described the actions of Cliodhna, Shamaness of the Baiocasses, Ron grew more and more agitated. It was with great difficulty that Harry convinced Ron to sit back down.

“Mate, what Hermione needs you to do right now is keep calm. When the healer is finished, then you can go and see her.”

A strained silence fell over the room. Bill and Fleur weren’t talking to each other, Ron sat grim faced and Harry brooded over his dreadful mistake of speaking the forbidden name. Luna and Dean held a hushed private conversation.

That’s how it was when Hermione came down the stairs. Ron was by her side in an instant.

“How are you feeling? you shouldn’t be up,” fussed Ron.

“I’m fine, Ron. The Healer said I could get up for a little while.”

“Are you sure, I mean, do you think you can trust—”

“I apologise, Hermione, you deserved a more professional—” Bill started.

“What on earth are you apologising for, Bill? Cliodhna was brilliant. I’m pretty sure she saved my life, as did you, Ron.” She turned to Ron and was now looking up at him with such adoring eyes that Harry felt unsettled. Ron was looking at Hermione in exactly the same way.

“You need to sit down.” Ron led Hermione to the sofa where they both sat down together. There wasn’t much space between them, Harry noted.

“The ‘ealer, what did she say?” asked Fleur, sitting stiffly, her arms crossed.

“She found a couple of cerebral aneurysms in my brain.” Hermione shuddered.

Ron took hold of her hand and squeezed it. “Is that dangerous? Are you going to be OK?”

“They can be fatal, but Cliodhna has already fixed them.”

“Are you sure she knows what she is doing?” asked Ron.

“Oh yes. She is qualified as a muggle doctor and a Healer. She only puts on the mad shaman routine so the Healer guild will leave her free to practice medicine in her own way. She’s brilliant.”

“This is what they tell me in France, but my husband, does ‘e believe me?”

“I’m sorry Fleur, but you have to admit that—” Fleur froze Bill with a glare. “OK you are right, I apologise, I should have trusted you.”

“Good,” said Fleur. “Now I think everyone has only ‘ad some soup, no? You all need to build up your strength. I have some cassoulet which my cousin gave me. Who would like some?”

Hermione shot her hand in the air, amidst a general chorus of “me”.

After a genial meal Luna announced she was going to bed and Fleur insisted Hermione return to bed as well.  

oOo

Ron woke early, just before dawn. Not wanting to wake anyone else, he climbed carefully out of his sleeping bag, put on his jeans and a jacket and headed outside.

He hadn’t slept that well, his mind kept on churning. It was no different now as he walked along the beach, his mind was still racing, still concentrating on the same thing, on Hermione.

He wasn’t thinking about how he felt about Hermione, that was crystal clear to him, had been for some time really and now, after the events of the last few days he felt the truth of it pulsing in every part of his body, an inescapable and essential part of who he was.

No, the question wasn’t what he felt about Hermione, but what was he going to do about it. That he had to act, that was something he was certain of and he was determined to do it. This half lie that sat between him and Hermione, this forbidden topic that they were both afraid to broach, this paralysis had to be confronted and dispelled. He could no longer abide the ever present tension, the unnecessary distance between them. He had almost lost her and he had never told her how he felt about her or heard from her how she felt about him. If, as he feared in his darkest moments, she did not reciprocate his feelings, then so be it. At least everything would be out in the open. But he was still afraid.

His feet had taken him around a bluff and he was now standing in front of small sand bank, fringed with small shrubs that gave shelter from the worst of the winds. It was like a natural alcove and was his favourite spot. Hidden from Shell Cottage by the bluff, he had spent many hours here last Christmas, thinking things over.

It had been Hermione at the centre in his thoughts back then too. He had sat in this very spot beating up on himself for abandoning her and Harry, racking his brains trying to find a way back to them, dreading Hermione’s reaction on his return, fearful she would never forgive him.

She had forgiven him; he knew that, though she hadn’t said it. Not completely forgiven, but mostly. He hadn’t forgiven himself though. Abandoning his closest friends at such a time was not something Ron Weasley did, and yet he had. He was still finding that hard to come to terms with.

Bill hadn’t helped. He hadn’t known what the three of them were doing but he had obviously been aware that it was dangerous. He hadn’t bothered to hide his disgust at Ron’s desertion. Ron was pleased that he no longer saw that disgust in his brother’s eyes.

But none of this reminiscing helped Ron with his current dilemma. What was he going to say, how was he going to find the right opportunity, how was he going get her away from the others without them all smirking knowingly. Of course, that was silly. From his behaviour over the last two days everyone but Harry probably assumed he and Hermione were already together. He blushed slightly as he recalled that, in the heat of his argument with Bill yesterday morning, he had called Hermione _the girl that he loved_. Well, so she was. But how to say it to Hermione? He felt his stomach knot as he tested different words in his head, imagining her reaction.

_Hermione, we need to talk_ – no that sounded too ominous, she might just back away.

_Hi Hermione, guess what?_ – that might work, and maybe Hermione would speak first and he wouldn’t have to, but no, that was cowardly and Hermione wouldn’t like it.

_Hermione there is something important I want to say to you._

“OK,” replied Hermione. Ron’s head shot up. He hadn’t realised he was speaking out loud and hadn’t heard her approach in the soft sand. He was pleased to see that she looked as nervous as he was.

“You OK?” Ron asked. Hermione just nodded.

She sat down beside him, both facing the sea.

“It is beautiful here. I spent a lot of time in this spot last Christmas just thinking things through.”

Hermione sat quietly.

“What did you want to say to me, Ron?” she said at last, biting her lower lip.

Ron looked a long time into her face, and then turned back to the sea and started filtering sand though his fingers.

“The thing is, I almost lost you.”

He turned back to her, “I couldn’t take that.” He felt ice in his stomach. “I just couldn’t take that… you mean so much to me, Hermione.”

He took hold of Hermione’s hand. He couldn’t read her expression. Her lips were pressed together, her eyes narrowed, boring into him. She said nothing.

“I..I love you, Hermione.” He looked expectantly at her, holding his breath, his heart racing.

She breathed in sharply, her mouth was open and she was shaking slightly.

“What do you mean by that, Ron?”

“Um…” But Ron could say no more, he was undone. This was his worst nightmare, she didn’t love him back.

“Do you mean you love me the way you love Ginny, your brothers, Harry, because I already know that.” Her words were barely audible, but Ron could hear the fear in them, the desperate need to know and he understood, he truly understood. His fears receded and he felt the smallest hint of a smile appear on his face.”

“No I don’t mean that. Well, I do, but… I mean… I mean I love you, Hermione like a man loves a wom—” He didn’t get to finish. Hermione launched herself into his arms and hugged him tightly. “I love you too, Ron.”

He put his arms around her and pulled her close. He didn’t bother asking her what she meant, he knew with utter certainty. He simply luxuriated in the feel of her body against him, letting the doubts and insecurities of many years melt away in the warmth of Hermione’s embrace. She was sobbing now but he knew they were tears of joy, of relief.

He held her all the more tightly and, because it felt so good, whispered once more into her ear “I love you, Hermione.”

Hermione’s tears subsided and they separated just enough to look into each other’s eyes. They were both grinning widely. “I love you, Ron,” said Hermione as if tasting the words, savouring them.

Slowly, irresistibly their lips drew closer and closer, finally coming together in a gentle caress. They kissed for the first time.

Ron felt a jolt run through his body and he was filled with his need for Hermione. He showered her with kisses each more urgent, more passionate feeling Hermione respond to him, pressing her lips harder against his, holding him more tightly.

Eventually they had to pause to catch up with their breathing.

“Wow,” said Ron.

“Wow indeed,” replied Hermione and they broke into giggles.

They lay back in the sand, lying on their sides, staring at each other.

“Do you really love me, Ron?”

“Nah, I just said that because I felt like a snog and you were the closest female. I was hoping Luna would come by, but…”

Hermione pulled out a tuft of grass and tossed it at him. Ron just smiled.

“I’m not pretty, like Lavender.”

Ron’s eyes went wide. “To me, Hermione, you are the most beautiful girl in the world. You don’t know how long I’ve been longing to kiss you like that.”

“I know how long I’ve wanted you to kiss me and to kiss you back.” She leant in towards him.

“Breakfast is ready,” announced Luna. “Fleur sent me to fetch you.”

Ron swore under his breath and Hermione giggled nervously, they both sat up.

“Were you two about to kiss? Can I watch. I think I need pointers and you must have learnt a lot over the last eight months.”

“No, Luna, you can’t watch. You go ahead, we’ll be there shortly,” replied Ron.

He stood up and then offered his hand to Hermione to help her up. They brushed off the sand and then, hand in hand, they headed back to the cottage. When they came around the bluff, Hermione tried to pull away her hand but Ron held it firm.

“I don’t want to hide this, Hermione. Do you?”

Hermione bit her lip, “Not really, but what will the others think?”

“Everyone already assumes we are together. You heard Luna.”

“Harry doesn’t.”

“Do you really think he’d be surprised?”

“No, I just don’t want him feeling left out, like it’s us and him. He’s carrying enough of a load as it is.”

Ron stopped walking. “Hermione, I just don’t want to hide what I feel for you anymore, not from you, not from me, not from anyone. I haven’t been hiding it since we arrived and I don’t want to start again. What I feel for you is just about the most important thing in my life.”

Tears started rolling down Hermione’s cheeks. She hid her face in Ron’s chest, hugging him tightly. She then held her hand out to Ron. “Let’s go get some breakfast, I bet you are starved.”

She wasn’t wrong.

As they neared the Cottage Ron saw Griphook looking down from an upstairs window. The deadly demands of the outside world would, he realised, soon be pressing in on them. He held Hermione’s hand tighter.


	5. Against the Darkness

**_Authors note:_ **

Apologies for taking so long to update this story.

I have rewritten parts of earlier chapters so you may wish to reread those. I hope to upload the final chapter in this story in the next few days.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Chapter 5: Against the Darkness_ **

 “Isn’t it going to be too small for all of us in the cart?” asked Ron.

Griphook had just described the rail cart ride they would need to take to reach the Lestrange vault. It was now over a week since they had arrived at Shell cottage and they had already several sessions with Griphook working through the details of their raid on Gringotts.

“It will be tight, Ron Weasley, but we should all fit. It will look strange, all squashed together yet with an empty space where Harry Potter and I sit under the invisibility cloak.”

“And it won’t be safe. You will not be secured when we take corners at high speed.”

“I do not believe you care about my welfare,” replied Griphook.

“We can’t get into the vault without you.”

“It’ll be fine, Ron, besides, we don’t have an alternative,” said Harry.

“Yes we do. We don’t all have to enter the bank. We should think about either Hermione or me staying behind. That should reduce the chance of being detected and it means someone is still able to continue on if…if…”

Hermione glared at Ron. “You mean for me to stay behind, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t have to be you, Hermione. It could be me or even Harry.”

“You know Harry has to go. He’s the only that can sense…” Hermione bit her lip.

“Later,” said Harry, giving a sideways glance to Griphook.

“Anyway I have to go,” said Hermione, ignoring Harry’s command. “I’m the only female, the only one who can impersonate Bellatrix.”

“Ha, neither you or Fleur had problems transforming into Harry. If two of the most beautiful women on the planet could transform into an ugly git like Harry, I’d have no problem with a hard edged bitch like Bellatrix.”

Harry was gobsmacked. Not because of the insult to him, but at the over the top compliment to Hermione. Harry had gotten used to Ron paying Hermione compliments over the last year, but this was something else again. Harry was amused to see Hermione lost for a comeback, her face a strange mixture of annoyance and pleasure.

Harry was fairly sure that his two friends relationship had moved onto a new level since they arrived at Shell cottage but he had not been able to talk to them about it. Whenever he got Ron or Hermione alone, Griphook would appear. He stuck to Harry like a shadow, and when he wasn’t around, someone else was.    

Hermione finally found voice. “Polyjuice doesn’t alter the voice. You’d still sound like a man, Ron.”

Ron pinched in his face. “I demand you take me to my vault, immediately,” he said in a spookily good imitation of Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione flinched.

“Let’s put this to rest, I need you both, OK. There is a lot more we need to discuss. How is your disguise coming along, Ron.”

Ron kept his eyes on the floor for a while then gave a small shrug. “OK, I guess. We’ve transformed some of Bill’s old clothes to resemble what Karkaroff wore at the tri-wizard tournament.”

“I’ve worked out a few cosmetic spells that will change his appearance, He will be hard to recognise, especially with the beard,” added Hermione.

“Hermione says I look even more handsome in a beard,” said Ron, once more animated. Hermione blushed, but didn’t contradict Ron.

Harry suppressed a groan.

Just then there was a knock on the door followed by Luna’s muffled voice. “Shamaness Cliodhna is here to see you, Hermione.”

“Coming,” replied Hermione.

“OK, we’ll break up for now,” said Harry. “We’ll meet again tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

Hermione stood up, gave Ron’s hand a squeeze and then left the room.

“I’m going for a walk,” announced Ron, getting up and leaving before Harry had a chance to react.   

“Ron Weasley wishes to protect his mate. It is natural, but dangerous,” said Griphook.

“She is not his mate,” replied Harry.

“If you say so, Harry Potter, but he makes it clear he cares more for her safety than his own or for the task we are planning. That is dangerous.” Griphook’s lips were parted, exposing his pointed teeth, giving him a menacing appearance. Harry was repulsed but he saw an opportunity.

“I will talk to Ron – alone. You can be sure when the time comes we, all three of us, will be focussed on the task.”   

oOo

Cliodhna was already crouching on the floor when Hermione entered. She was wearing the same outlandish outfit as previously, though without the strange oaken hat with its resident  wood warbler.

“How are you Sorcha-Aedammair. Fleur tells me you have had no more fits. Is it true?”

“Yes, I am feeling much better. I have been taking it easily, physically.”

“And mentally, emotionally?”

Hermione didn’t reply.

“Please lie down, I need to examine you.” Cliodhna hefted her branch like wand and moved it slowly over Hermione’s prone body, chanting almost inaudibly, occasionally poking Hermione with her free hand. Hermione sucked in her breath several times when Cliodhna hit a tender spot.

Cliodhna sat down on Luna’s bed. “Sit up child.”

“Well how am I?”

“You are healing physically as well as can be expected, but you should not over exert yourself for at least another week. You are obviously still experiencing some pain when you move abruptly?”

Hermione nodded.

“And you are very tense. It is your mental and emotional state I am worried about. Would you like to talk about it?”

Hermione said nothing.

“You are safe here and loved here, Sorcha-Aedammair. You should let that calm and heal you.”

“We cannot stay here.”

“But you do not need to leave. Bill and Fleur have both assured me you are welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“We will leave as soon as I am well enough. There are things we must do.”

Hermione could see the pain filling Cliodhna’s large knowing eyes.

“You are maquis then, the resistance – no you don’t have to confirm it. I understand. But you are so young."

"We fight because we can."

Cliodhna nodded. "It is as it was before, as it was when the Germans came into France once more, this time ruled by evil men, this time supported by dark wizards. The best of us fought, young and old we fought and too many of us died. It was a time of great pain. It saddens me to see such times come again.”

“The Nazis were supported by dark wizards? Muggle history of World War II doesn’t mention wizards, of course, and the magical history of the struggle against Grindelwald ignores the muggles.”

“The Nazis, especially the SS were joined at the hip with a group of Dark wizards. Some believe that Himmler himself was a squib and that much of the hatred that drove the little man stemmed from his anger at having no magical powers.”

“And you fought them?”

“As a doctor and a healer. I treated bullet wounds with muggle medicine and dark magic with healing. It was when I learnt so much about the cruciatus, far too much. They were terrible times and now they come again.”

“It is why I must fight.”

“I ache to tell you to stay away, Sorcha-Aedammair, that you are too young, that one person cannot make a difference, but I cannot. It isn’t true. It wasn’t true in 1940 and it isn’t true now and so I will do now, what I did then. I will heal you so you can go out and get hurt again, and I will ignore the pain in my heart.”

Cliodhna was trembling. She reached into her bag and took out a small bottle which she unstoppered before taking a small swig.

“Are you alright,” asked Hermione, reaching out and putting a reassuring hand on Cliodhna’s knee.

“I’ll be fine, and so will you. Just keep taking the medicine I have given you and do not leave here till at least ten more days have passed.” Cliodhna stood and gave Hermione a hug.

“Anytime, anywhere you need me, Hermione, I will come. Just send word through Fleur.” With those words Cliodhna turned on the spot and was gone leaving Hermione alone and afraid.

Hermione felt a need to be with Harry and Ron. You think I’m brave, Cliodhna, but without Harry and Ron by my side, I would soon fall apart. You have no idea how much I want to just stay here, safe, how much I fear leaving here. Or is it that you do?

oOo

Harry saw Ron in the distance, alone, on the headland that jutted out into the ocean. He was annoyed at him. It  was hard enough to keep focussed on the task without getting all this resistance from Ron. He felt he was carrying the whole load himself.

“So what’s up, mate?” he asked when he reached Ron.

When Ron turned toward him, Harry was shocked. Ron whole body was drooping and his chin was trembling.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Harry.”

Harry felt a stab of fear. Anger quickly followed. “You planning on leaving us, again?”

Ron flinched and the colour drained from his face. “As long as you continue, as long as Hermione continues, I will be there.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“It’s just so effing hard.”

“I wouldn’t want you to miss out on Fleur’s cooking.”

“Sod off, Harry.” Ron turned up the collar of his jacket against the chill Atlantic breeze that had just arisen.

Harry didn’t move. He stood staring out at the ocean, feeling cold and alone.

“Don’t you think I find this hard as well?”

Ron studied his best friend’s face. “I know what all this is costing you, Harry.” He kicked a couple of stones before continuing. “I just can’t get Malfoy Manor out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about what happened, about what nearly happened.”

“Yeah.”

“And I look at Hermione as we all sit and casually discuss jumping back into danger again. And…and…”

“You can’t keep her out of it, Ron.”

“I know that.”

“Do you think I am any happier about it than you, I love her like she was my sister, like you love Ginny.”

“I know. I know. It’s just hard, OK.”

Harry clapped a hand on his friends shoulder. “Come on, mate, let’s get back. This wind is freezing.”

They started walking back to the cottage.

“I’m worried about Hermione’s emotional state too,”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry

“I think she has taken some of this Mudblood nonsense on board, hardly surprising after how we she singled out at Malfoy Manor, treated as disposable.”

Harry felt as if he had been slapped in the face. “Are you sure?”

“ _Mudblood and proud of it_. That what she said to Griphook. I’m sure Hermione would have some fancy Muggle psychology term for it, but it sounds to me like she is trying to convince herself.”

“That’s a bit thin.”

“Then there is the things she has been saying in her sleep.”

Harry stared hard at his friend. “Is there something you are not telling me.”

Ron coloured slightly. “I mean when we first arrived, when I was taking care of her. She was mumbling things like _worthless_ and _dispose of the Mudblood_. I asked Luna too. It’s still happening.”

The two walked in silence for a while then Harry felt a burst of anger, smashing his fist into his left hand. “That is so wrong.”

“Yep.”

oOo

After Cliodhna had left, Hermione went downstairs where Dean was peeling potatoes with Luna looking on. He had made quite a mess.

“This wand is hopeless,” said Dean. He and Luna had been sharing an old wand the Fleur had inherited from her great grandmother.

“You have to think in French when you use it, Dean,” said Luna.

“I didn’t know you could speak French,” said Hermione.

“A little. Daddy and I spent several summers in the Camargue cataloguing the magical creatures there. We were hoping to find a gargouille but Daddy now thinks they must be in the middle of their twenty year sleep cycle.”

“A gargouille?” Hermione tried to hide her scorn at the myths Luna took so seriously . Up until a few days ago she would have sworn there was no such thing as the Elder wand and that the Deathly Hallows was just a fairy story. Besides, Luna was still fragile, they all were. “That’s interesting Luna.”

“Yes it is. Gargouilles are the model for all those carved gargoyles you see on old buildings.”

“Well maybe we can find some gargouilles to peel these potatoes. They probably think in French,” said Dean.

Hermione smiled. “I don’t suppose Fleur has a potato peeler?”

“Hah, these pure-bloods wouldn’t even know what a potato peeler looked like. All Fleur has is knives, really sharp ones. I cut myself earlier,” said Dean, holding up his hand to show the cut between thumb and finger.

“Do you know where Ron and Harry are?” asked Hermione.

“Ron went outside about an hour ago. Harry followed about five minutes later. They both looked troubled,” replied Luna.

Hermione frowned and then left in search of her two best friends. When she got outside she saw them in the distance, walking slowly along the beach back towards the cottage and she went to join them.

“What did Cliodhna have to say?” asked Ron when she caught up with them.

“She says I’m fine.” Hermione pushed herself between the two boys and then, as she turned, took hold of their arms. The three headed back to the cottage.

“Cliodhna says I need to stay here for at least another ten days.”

“Good,” said Ron.

“Did you know she worked with the French Resistance as a doctor during the second world war.”

When neither Harry or Ron said anything she added, “She thinks I’m brave.”

“You are brave,” said Ron.

“I don’t feel brave,” she replied.

“None of us do,” said Harry.

Ron squeezed her hand.

The three friends walked in silence along the beach. For the moment it was enough. Hermione was happy to simply draw comfort from being with her friends

After a while Hermione let go of Harry’s arm. She kept hold of Ron’s hand. She noticed Harry looking down a couple of times at their joined hands. Maybe they should talk to Harry about it, but she didn’t have the emotional energy at the moment. He’ll work it out.

oOo

The conversation at dinner that night was subdued. Even Luna, whose resilient spirit had largely rebounded, was quiet. The news was not good.

Bill and Fleur had spent the afternoon at a meeting of the heavily depleted Order of the Phoenix. Two more members had been captured, one killed, the other sent to Azkaban. A small boatload of wandless muggle born and their families, trying to flee to the safety of Europe, had been intercepted and were now imprisoned.

Europe itself was looking less safe. Wizards loyal to Voldemort were getting close to controlling the magical government in Spain. He already controlled large parts of what was once known as the Austro-Hungarian empire.

“Is there no good news?” asked Hermione.

“Well, they were all cheered to hear you three were safe,” said Bill.

“You didn’t tell them what we are doing, did you?” asked Harry, suddenly alert.

“As I don’t know what you are doing, that would have been difficult. But, don’t worry, we didn’t tell them about the goblin and all the secret meetings you are having.”

“Good,” replied Harry.

“It’s good we got everyone out of the Burrow in time. You are now officially Undesirable Number Three, Ron. Posters have been put up all over Diagon alley,” continued Bill.

“Hey, I’m famous,” said Ron.

“I think it is awful,” said Hermione.

“C’est épouvantable, insupportable! The world is upside down when someone like Ron or Harry or Hermione is a wanted criminal,” said Fleur.

“Dad has also been placed on the list of Undesirables. Fred and George are feeling left out. You seemed to have married into the least desirable family in Britain, ma chère.”

“I think I have married into the finest family in Britain and I am proud to share my table with these good people.”

“Hear, Hear,” said Dean.

“There is some good news,” said Bill. “Dawlish one of the Aurors who has been more than happy to participate in the crimes of the new regime was sent to arrest Augusta Longbottom, Neville’s Grandmother. Dawlish was no match for the old lady and is now in hospital.”

“Go granny,” said Ron, high fiving with Dean.

“Yeah,” continued Bill, “Augusta is in hiding now, but she is safe.”

“That is not good news,” said Hermione. “It means they will be going after Neville now.” Luna blanched.

“How are Mum and Dad?” asked Ron in an uneasy voice.

“They’re fine, Ron, though there is no point pretending they aren’t worried, especially after they heard about Malfoy manor. I don’t know how Dad managed to convince Mum not to rush over here, or Ginny for matter. He told them it wasn’t safe to come. I agree.”

“Ginny? Ginny wanted to come?” asked Harry.

Bill looked at him quizzically. “Still does, according to Dad. She’s angry at him for stopping her.”

Fleur stood up. “Who would like some apple tart and cream, I think it is time to end this gloomy conversation, no?”

Every hand went up, except Hermione’s. “I am not that hungry, thanks, Fleur.”

“I saw a spotted Ibis yesterday. It is rare to see those outside of the south of France,” said Luna.

“I think I’ll get some fresh air, if you will all excuse me,” said Hermione. She headed outside before anyone responded.

Ron and Harry exchanged worried glances. “I’ll go see if she is OK,” announced Ron and got up to follow Hermione. He noticed her jacket was still on the peg and picked it up as he went out.

Hermione hadn’t gone far. She was sitting on Fleur’s favourite bench, placed beside a charmed and fragrant rose garden and which had a marvellous view along the shoreline.

“Here, I brought you this. It’s getting a little chilly.” He sat down next to Hermione who slipped on the jacket and then took hold of Ron’s arm and rested her head on his shoulder.

“What if we don’t win?” she asked. Ron could feel her tremble.

“We have to.”

“Every day he gets stronger and we get weaker. Every day more and more people get hurt.”

“At least we can do something about it. I’ve got to keep hold of that,” said Ron.

“We all came so close to dying at Malfoy’s, not for the first time either. We could so easily fail.”

Ron took back his arm from Hermione’s grip and then put it around her pulling her closer.

“I have to believe that Harry can win, that we can win. I couldn’t carry on otherwise.”

“This Gringotts thing, it is so risky, and there may not even be a horcrux there.”

“I know. But we have to find out.”

Hermione nodded. “I can’t do this without you, Ron.”

“Me neither, and Harry needs both of us, so that is all we can do, hang on tight to each other and put one step in front of the other till this bloody nightmare is over.”

“Promise me that you’ll stay by my side.”

Ron loosened his hold on Hermione and turned away. His voice cracked. “I’ll never do that again, I will stay by your side and by Harry’s no matter what.” He took Hermione’s hand, looking into her eye’s. “I couldn’t stand something happening to you and I’m going to be with you every second to make sure it doesn’t”

Ron could see the tears forming on Hermione’s cheek, glistening in the moonlight. He brushed them gently away. Her face, softened by the light, was so achingly beautiful. He lent in and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Hermione threw her arms around Ron, holding him tight, returning his kiss with passion. Ron felt a hunger arise in him, a hunger for Hermione, a hunger for life, a hunger to proclaim we are alive, damn you. He consumed Hermione with his kisses.

In time they separated, both catching their breath, and then they were content just to hold each other.

"We better go back inside," said Hermione at last. Reluctantly, hand in hand, they returned to the cottage.

 


	6. Encore à Guerre

**Chapter 6: Encore à Guerre**

A large bucket bulging with mussels, clams, crabs and cockles carried between them, the bounty of a mornings fossicking in the sand and the nearby estuary mudflats, Luna and Dean ambled along the beach, heading back to Shell Cottage, enjoying the glorious mid spring sunshine beating on their backs.

Ollivander was leaving the next day and Luna had insisted they put on a farewell feast. She regretted that there was no nearby freshwater lake where she might have found her favourite plimpys, at least none that was safe to visit, but she would be able to make a passable imitation of her famous soup with the clams and cockles. Fleur was going to makes  _moules mariniere_  and they would surely find something delightful to do with the delicious brown crabs they had caught.

"He's a strange old codger, Ollivander" said Dean. "There's something, I don't know, a touch cold-blooded about him."

"He died a little at Malfoy manor, I think. He had already been there a long time before I came, often alone. He was tortured too. That does things to you, just look at Hermione."

"She sure is jumpy. I made the mistake of coming up behind her the other day. She had her wand out and in my face before I realised she had even moved."

"All three of them are like that. They are afraid too. They will be leaving here very soon, I am sure, going back into to danger again."

"Damn it," said Dean, almost halting, jerking the bucket and wrenching Luna's arm. "I feel so ashamed. All I've done is run, trying to save my own skin. And now I'm skulking in the safety of this haven. You have fought them, Luna, I have done nothing."

"And I ended up in a dungeon and Daddy in Azkaban."

"You regret what you did?"

"I would not change what I did, but I did it not really thinking about the price I had to pay."

"Harry, Ron and Hermione know the price and it is not stopping them. I cannot stay here, I am going to offer to help them."

"They will not accept. They will not even tell Ron's family what they are doing or accept help from them."

"I can't just stay here doing nothing."

"Then do as I intend to do. I can no longer help the DA so I will join the Order of the Phoenix if they will have me."

"Then I will do it too."

"Dean, do not join just because you are ashamed. This war will go on and on. A fighter who does not truly understand why they fight is like a hippogriff colt, unpredictable and a danger to those near them."

They reached the cottage and delivered their catch to the kitchen. Dean made himself scarce as Luna began cleaning and preparing the seafood. Later that afternoon she saw him in serious discussion with Bill while Harry, Ron and Hermione once again locked themselves away with the goblin.

Luna thought about her father, now in Azkaban. Forgive me Daddy if you have to pay the price for what I now intend to do.

oOo

The feast began after sunset, starting with Luna's "plimpy" soup. Ron, in particular, looked at his bowl with apprehension.

"I know it's not the same without real plimpys, Ron, and I couldn't find any cudweed so I used a little feverfew and some St. John's wort. Daddy says with a little imagination you can always win through."

"Imagination is important to your father, isn't it?" said Ron earning him a kick under the able from Hermione.

"Oh yes, without imagination how can you create the future?" said Luna looking at Hermione.

"Well the soup is delicious," said Bill. He nudged Fleur, who had a sour look on her face.

"Ah oui, it is trés, trés …er, I forget the English word."

"Well I think it is delightful, my child, one of the finest soups I have ever tasted," said Ollivander.

Luna beamed, forgetting for the moment that Ollivander was complaining, just the other day, how he was losing his sense of taste.

Griphook had declined to join them this night and this upset no one. Griphook always had a dampening effect on spirits around the table and there was always tension between the wand maker and the wandless goblin.

Everyone finished their soup. Bill and Dean even had seconds. Then Fleur brought in the main course, steaming bowls of mussels, platters of French fries and steamed crabs accompanied by fresh aioli.

"Oh this is marvellous," said Hermione, her eyes alight. For once she beat Ron to the food, ladling a large portion of mussels into her bowl. Dean and Bill both dug in with gusto.

Harry and Ron were slower to jump in. Seafood was rarely on the menu at either the Burrow or Hogwarts and the Dursleys would never waste money on such foolishness and didn't approve of continental food on principle. Battered fish, deep fried in dark oil with greasy chips was the only proper dish to come out of the sea.

Fleur demonstrated the spell commonly used in France for cracking open crab shells and exposing the sweet flesh. Hermione was delighted. "This is so much better than those heavy crab crackers and long forks."

Bill waved his wand and bottles of French wine and a jug of Belgian beer appeared on the table.

"Beer goes really well with the mussels," said Bill.

Hermione poured herself a little beer. "This reminds me of when my parents and I stayed in the seaside village of Honfleur in Normandy and we had  _moulles et frittes_. They even let me have a little beer. She felt a moments sadness as she thought about her parents, then she lifted her glass. "Here's to better times."

"To better times," they all chorused. Then they all fell to the serious business of eating.

When they all finished, Hermione noticed some crab juice and a dollop of aioli on Ron's chin.

"Really, Ronald, can't you eat without needing a bath afterwards?" she picked up her napkin and wiped his chin clean.

Fleur smirked and then waved her wand and all the dishes rose in the air, stacking themselves neatly and floating into the kitchen. She flourished her wand again and a ramekin appeared in front of each person.

Hermione pierced the crust of the dark brown soufflé and then closed her eyes in bliss as she was overwhelmed by the aroma of the warm flowing chocolate. She consumed her dessert, delighting in every spoonful.

She noticed Ron smiling at her in a strange way.

"What are you grinning at, Ron."

He picked up his napkin and wiped her chin. "I don't know how, but some of the chocolate managed to escape."

Hermione felt herself flushing. She was rescued by the tinkling of glass and the sound of Ollivander clearing his throat. His voice was raspy as he began to speak..

"I would like to say a few words of thanks, first to you, dear Mrs Weasley. You kindness and care over the last few weeks have been overwhelming, capped off by this splendid meal. I will never be able to repay the hospitality shown to me by yourself and your fine husband. I thank you both. To the younger Mr Weasley and Mr Potter, what can I say, you saved me from that house of horrors and I will be eternally grateful."

Ollivander sipped some water before continuing. "As, for you, my dear Luna, beautiful spirit, I would have died in that dreadful place, given up on life, if you had not restored my soul. May no harm ever come to you again." His glass shook as he once more drank some water. He dabbed his eyes with his napkin.

"What will you do now, Mr Ollivander," asked Luna.

"It is not safe for me now in Britain or, I daresay, in Europe. I have a nephew in the US, in Louisiana. He is also a wandmaker. I hope to escape to America if I can. I hope you will all try and flee. There is nothing left for any of you here."

"We intend to keep on fighting," said Harry frostily.

"Harry, Ron and Hermione are heading out again in a couple of days," said Luna.

Hermione stared open mouthed at Luna, how did she know that?

"You cannot win Mr Potter, surely you know that."

"I do not accept that, we must keep on fighting."

"If he now has the Death Stick, as you claim, the Dark Lord is now invincible. And he will not rest until he kills you, Mr Potter. His grip on England gets stronger every day. Soon, not even places like this delightful refuge will be safe. It saddens me immensely, but I am afraid no one around this table will be safe unless you flee."

"No! You are wrong," said Ron. He jumped to his feet and was shaking. "I will not cede my home to that monster. I will not allow him to destroy everyone and everything I care about. Sod him. I will fight him till my dying breath and we will win."

"You will lose, Mr Weasley. The advantage of old age is that you see things as they are, not how you would wish them to be."

"You confuse old age with cowardice," said Ron. "Excuse me, I need some clean air. Thanks, Fleur, Luna for that marvellous dinner." He turned his back on Ollivander and headed outside.

"It appears I have upset our brave young man, I apologise if I gave any offence."

"It is because people were afraid to oppose him, even when he was weak, that  _He Who is an Abomination_  is now so strong. He thrives on fear and defeatism. You aid him when you talk as you did," said Hermione.

"And you, Mr Potter, are you so determined to ignore the truth that you will lead your two friends to their assured death."

Harry looked as if struck by an iron bar. He stood, glaring at Ollivander, his face flushed with anger. "How dare you!" He stood and then left the room followed by Hermione.

oOo

They found Ron not very far away and they joined him sitting on the sand.

"Remind me why we bothered saving the old coot," said Ron.

"We didn't, Dobby did," replied Harry bitterly. "I doubt the ungrateful bastard has given a moment's thought to Dobby's sacrifice since we arrived."

"What he said to you, Harry, was unforgiveable. We are each of us responsible for the risks we take and we have always made decisions together," said Hermione.

Harry didn't look convinced. "I can't ignore the danger you two have been in because of me.  _Harry Potter's best friend_  is not exactly the safest job in the world."

"The hours are lousy too, and so is the pay, but, mate, we volunteered for the job knowing as well as you did what it meant. We at least get a chance to fight back. In two days' time it will be four horcruxes down and we will one step closer to destroying the evil bastard."

"If there is a horcrux there, if we can get it and if we can get away safely. And then there are two more after that," said Harry.

Hermione put her hand on Harry's shoulder. "Neither Ron or I any longer have any illusions about how hard this is going to be, how long it is going to take or what it is likely to cost us. I don't think you do either. Any illusions we might have still had were blown away at Malfoy manor. I've had to comes to terms with that over the last few weeks, though if I am truthful, I am more scared now than I ever was, but more determined too."

"Same, mate. However long it takes, whatever it costs, I'm in it till the end. I'm in it for you and I'm in it for Hermione."

Even in the moonlight, Hermione could see Harry's face choked with emotion. He put his arm around both them and pulled them into a hug. "For each other."

"Forever," added Ron.

oOo

Bill awoke as the predawn light filtered into his bedroom. He had slept lightly all night, unable to shake a sense of foreboding. His brother, together with Harry and Hermione, were leaving this morning, heading off into Merlin knows what danger. The only consolation was that the goblin was leaving too, but it was a very poor one.

He had been instructed by Harry to stay in bed until they had left and not to look out the window. It was odd that he did not feel more than a moments resentment at been given orders in his own home and by his baby brother's friend, but Harry had developed an air of quite authority and seriousness. All three of them had in their own way.

Only a few short weeks before, they had arrived physically broken and emotionally shattered, but they had never for a moment lost sight of their goal. They had healed and regathered their resolve and he was glad that he had been able to supply the safe place that enabled them to do that. But he was full of fear.

It saddened him to see how much Ron's easy going nature had changed. He had always had a short temper, but it was always a momentary disturbance, like a short, violent summer storm that soon departs leaving behind a cleansed world bathed in bright sunlight. The good nature was still there but there was a fierceness that never left him and a determination.

What was wonderful, was the love his brother held for his brown haired friend. He was proud of the ferocity with which he protected her. That was what Weasley men did, protect the people they love. Off course it had been a pain in the butt at times, but that was OK.

One day, Hermione would likely be his sister in law, he judged, but with the inescapable proviso – if she survives, if they both survive.

He looked at Fleur, even more perfect in the soft light, sleeping peacefully, her long blond hair spread out on the bedcover and his heart filled with love for his wife. How hard it must be for Ron heading into danger with the woman he loved. Not that he could have stopped her.

He had learnt too that he could not keep Fleur from danger either, that he must accept that she had as much right to contribute to the war and to face danger as anyone. She had already taken part in the mission to move Harry from the Dursley home to the Burrow and several others for the Order of the Phoenix. He hated it, but he accepted it.

He heard the door of the adjoining bedroom close gently and soft steps going down the stairs. That would be Hermione.

So young to be taking on so much.

But she wasn't the only one. Luna had approached him about joining the Order of the Phoenix. She was even younger, the same age as Ginny, not yet of age. All the same he did not think the Order could turn her down, they were desperate and Luna was a combat veteran, having already fought against Death Eaters on two occasions. As had Ginny, he bitterly reminded himself.

The door to the guest bedroom banged closed, the goblin, they would be gone soon.

Dean had volunteered too, he was sick of running. They would take him too.

Bill heard the faint, muffled pop of several people disapparating. When would he see his brother again? Would he see his brother again?

He got out of bed and with heavy steps moved to the window and opened the curtains. The beauty could not lift his spirits. This war would go on and on and people he cared about would be hurt, even killed.

But he would continue to do what was needed today, and then the next day and the day after that. What else was could he do.

**The End**

**Please review.**

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you are enjoying the story so far. Please let me know what you think. Shell cottage has been done many times before but I hope I am adding something worthwhile.


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